I Couldn't Forget
by Sadhana
Summary: Jam. Starts with Casino Night, but will move on to postCasino Night in later chapters. Spoilers for the entire series thus far. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Finally completed.
1. This Moment

_You have no idea_. The more her words echoed through his aching head, the more heavy he felt. _What your friendship_. Sitting in his car with nothing but the sound of his own breathing to comfort him and the repetition of painful phrases to torture him. _Means to me_. It hurt so badly that it was benumbing the rest of his emotions, sitting in the driver's seat with the keys in the ignition and the engine off, listening to the memory of what had just happened. _I can't_. Every time he felt those two words, the pulse of his heart grew more intense. _I'm really sorry_. The glow of the dashboard, the illuminated speedometer and the other various indicators of the car's functions, threw light on his face, a picture of a key in the ignition blinking green in the bottom right corner. _If you misinterpreted things_.

Jim turned the keys to the right a little. The radio flashed on, and the sound of a soft acoustic song of forgotten love created a medley with his heartbeat, his hot breath, and the muted sound of his sparse tears.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to turn the engine on completely, back out of the parking lot of Dunder Mifflin, go home, and make the arrangements to transfer somewhere that could make him forget about his addiction to every gesture of Pam's he had memorized. Her big, open-mouth smile when they had successfully pulled off a scheme against Dwight together. That laugh of her's when he said something mildly amusing. A little glance she'd give him when she noticed him walking over to the reception desk as if she was pretending to not notice him. If a lock of golden brown hair fell away from behind her ear, and she'd unconsciously tuck it away again. When she had something good on her mind that she couldn't say out loud, and her eyes would get big as she restrained a smile through tight lips.

He wanted to forget how perfect she was. He wanted to believe that he could.

But even now, he knew where she would be, where he could find her. He knew her well enough to know that she'd be up alone in the dark office, trying to sort out her thoughts as she never trusted herself. And while his rejected heart begged him to ignore his instincts, the part of him, all of him, that loved her couldn't turn away now. If for no other reason, he wanted to go up to the office to comfort her.

Before his reason could tell him otherwise, the keys were in his pocket again, he was back in the building, and he was taking the stairs up to the office.

What could he say to her? Was there anything left to say? He felt so empty at the thought of her marrying him, he wasn't sure if he had any words left inside of him. His heart began and ended with Pam, and even "I'm in love with you" didn't properly suit how much he never stopped thinking about her. How he knew that the cameras caught his stares of longing, his love-filled smiles, and yet it didn't matter to him.

He came through the hallway, and heard her sweet voice fade into audible volume. Pausing at the door, he listened to the sound of her speaking to some presence-less person. The words slipped through his ears. All that mattered to him was hearing her speak. Hearing her voice flutter between breathlessness and explanations.

"_Yeah_, I think I _am_," he heard her say weakly. He couldn't just stand there. Hearing her voice like that made his stomach shrink and his heart quiver. She was truly irresistible. Not even aware of what he would say or do, Jim moved forward, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Um, I have to go. I will," Pam said curtly into the phone, hanging up as soon as she spotted him entering the room. Some invisible force pushed him towards her across the dark office, dimly lit by purring computer monitors. His eyes were on the carpet moving quickly beneath him.

At that moment, he understood that there was only one truth in his life, only one thing he could count on.

He remembered every moment with her. The day Pam fell asleep on his shoulder, and how such a simple gesture made his entire day into something bright. The day that Dwight asked him to be in alliance, and Roy finding Pam and him laughing together reminded him that he _couldn't_ feel this way about her. The day Katy came to the office, and how he unsuccessfully tried to move past his feelings for Pam by dating someone else. The night of the Dundies, and how something as meaningless as a drunk kiss meant so much to him. The day Pam's mom visited the office, and the way hearing a whispered phrase (_"So which one is Jim?"_) could give him hope again. The day of the fire, and how it reminded him that he would never care for Katy like he did for Pam. The day that Michael and Dwight fought, and the pain he felt when Pam pulled away from his playful embrace. The day that Michael left the office to meet a client, and his romantic first "date" with Pam on top of Dunder Mifflin's roof. The day of the Christmas party, and how seeing Pam's reaction to his gift to her made the entire holiday unforgettable. The night of the Booze Cruise, and how Roy setting the date for the wedding, seeing Pam kiss him with a big smile, crushed every hope he had bared to hold onto. The day that Michael practically announced to the office that he had a crush on Pam, and the lie he told himself as well as her (_"I used to have a crush on Pam, and now I... don't."_). The day he had to switch desks, and the hurt he endured just watching Pam dote on Roy all day. The day he realized that he couldn't face the idea of attending Pam's wedding, and how he scheduled a trip to Australia just so he wouldn't have to. The day of Michael's birthday, and the way he guided Pam's hand as she got used to ice-skating.

Everything. It had brought him to this, to this realization. No matter what the situation was, no matter how little hope there was, no matter how much is hurt, no matter where he was, and no matter what happened... he would always love Pam.

"Listen, Jim..." she began. His hands glided around the small of her back. He leaned in, and kissed her with everything he had ever felt for her. The sweetest, softest kiss he ever had. And as her hands slid upwards and tangled in his hair, he could've sworn that the rest of the world withered away completely. They were the only two left in the office, in the building, in Scranton. This was the moment that every other day of his life beforehand was leading to. The one moment he could say everything else was forgotten. Just this moment.


	2. Afraid

What was she doing? Why was she kissing him back?

Pam let her hands fall to Jim's chest. No longer disillusioned by this idea, this idea of Jim and her, she knew this was the wrong thing to do to Roy. He was her fiancé. Jim was her best friend. _She was engaged_.

She pushed herself back against Jim's chest gently. His lips still moved forward, quivering to keep kissing her. She pushed a little more firmly until they were finally apart. He took a step back, and waited for something, anything for her to indicate how she really felt. She had _kissed him back_. That meant she felt something, didn't it? But all she could do was look into his eyes, the eyes she had laughed with, smiled with. The eyes that had made her feel a warmth melt inside her rib cage, no matter how much she wanted to and tried to deny it. What now?

"Jim..." Pam had forgotten what she originally wanted to say to him. She came into this day expecting a future for herself in less than a month as a beautiful bride, wrapped in white silk and silver-tinted sheer fabric. But now Jim had taken everything she once thought she knew and wiped it all away with a kiss that made her knees weak.

"I can't do this," she finally mustered the strength– or rather the breath– to say. Jim's face fell, and his hands went back into their respective pockets. Her throat itched with the unspoken words she wanted to tell him: that she was confused, that this was happening too quickly for her, that she couldn't be expected to make a life-altering decision this close to her wedding. _Oh, God, her wedding_. Pam's hallowed stomach felt nauseous on air.

"_Yeah_," he whispered. As she stood there, feeling the burn in her own eyes as tear ducts emptied briny water into her eye sockets, watching him walk out of the office and away from her, Pam could only stand and watch the last ten years of her life– the last ten years that were finally going to culminate in her wedding next month– shatter from its fractures... _fractures like being in love with Jim_, she thought to herself.

She only stood there, her back rigid and hot tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. She didn't know what to think or how to move. All that she had the motivation to do was to sit at her desk, the spot where this mess with her and Jim began every day, and try to figure things out. Her satin high heels walked across the carpet, and brought her behind the reception desk. Her screen saver glowed in bright blue, the words "Dunder Mifflin Paper Company" in a bold white font.

Pam sat in her rolling chair, her elbows propped up on the desk and her face buried in her hands. This was her fault too. She allowed herself to grow these feelings for Jim, feelings that she tried so hard to pretend didn't exist. Every time she laughed with him, was playful with him, let him get close to her, she was inviting this moment to complicate everything. She wanted so badly to kiss him again instead of breaking his heart, but life wasn't that simple. She couldn't just follow her impulses. She had commitments, responsibilities, ten year-long relationships. She wasn't sure if she was in love with Jim... or Roy. But wasn't it simpler to just go ahead with the plans she was already attached to? The plans Pam had been waiting for Roy to set in stone for the past three years.

The light from her computer screen lingered across a piece of paper tacked to a small black cork board leaning against her desk. She looked at it with puffy eyes as she held it in the light of the monitor. It was the doodle Jim drew for her. It was supposed to be her although he obviously didn't have the greatest artistic talent. She had big strips of curls for hair and huge, pretty eyes, a phone propped in her hand. Underneath the Dunder Mifflin heading, he had scribbled the words "This is Pam" with quotes around the entire thing. What she said when she answered the phone at work. She giggled a little, comforted by the memory of Jim's simple sense of humor. "From: Jim" was squared off in the bottom left corner. She unconsciously ran her index finger across his name. _Jim_. _Her best friend_.

"_It's getting kind of rowdy down there," Pam said as she and Jim settled themselves on the deck of the Booze Cruise._

"_Yeah. 'Darryl, Darryl, Darryl!'" Jim mimicked Roy playfully. She laughed quietly, and leaned her back against the railing._

"_Sometimes I just don't get Roy," Pam said, gently shaking her head. She loved Roy, and spoke with a smile. But even Pam recognized the buried seriousness and disappointment in her lukewarm smile– although she wouldn't acknowledge it outside of her own mind. Pam looked up at Jim, half expecting him to say something deep and philosophical on the ways of romance that could somehow comfort the twinge of despair she felt when she admitted her lack of connection with Roy. He shrugged his shoulder in sympathy, but couldn't really say anything. Averting her gaze, she added, "I mean... I don't know."_

_Jim's sweet smile contorted into a frown. Pam thought it looked like he really did want to help her, that there was something in him that really cared a lot for her and that he would do anything to help her out... but that he knew he was helpless in this situation. It felt too serious. She didn't want this to get too uncomfortable._

"_So... what's it like dating a cheerleader?" she teased. He laughed. She liked it when he laughed, a big smile taking over her composure again._

"_Well, uhhh," he mumbled. Lost for words again, he only responded with a smile. And as he watched her grin admiringly at him, she felt something change in him. His face fell, and he sucked in a big breath. Looking her in the eye again with a new objective, a new resolve, he only stared at her. And suddenly, neither of them was smiling anymore. Pam waited for him to speak, but the more his expression changed, the more afraid she grew. She faked a shiver._

"_I'm cold," she said before walking away._

She had been afraid of this for so long. Afraid that Jim might feel something more than friendship for her. But... it wasn't because it might make things awkward. Pam didn't want to be burdened by this decision. She had been dreaming of her wedding since she was a little girl, and it was so close.

_the more afraid she grew._


	3. She Had Safety

Monday. This was what she had been dreading all weekend. She couldn't avoid this forever. In a few minutes, Jim would come through the doorway. He'd have his thumb hooked around the strap of shoulder bag, and his brown suit jacket on. Normally, he'd say something witty while passing her desk. Normally, this witty remark would leave her giggling until he got settled at his desk, and ventured over to talk to her. Normally, he would then grab a jellybean, lean over her desk, and take interest in whatever was in front of her. Normally, he would get a big smile on his face when she laughed at his jokes, and she would smile back admiringly.

But not this morning. This morning, she knew things wouldn't be normal. Nothing with Jim could ever be normal again.

Sitting at the receptionist desk, Pam watched everyone slowly file into the office as they did every morning. She tried so hard to think of anything to say to him. To remain silent would be just as unbearable as talking. Dwight, Angela, Toby, Oscar... everyone strolled in to begin their work week.

And there was Jim. Thumb hooked, jacket on, and head down. He walked by her desk without a word, only a glance. Only a small peek up at her from his downtrodden face. For just that one glance, his eyebrows wrinkled, he bit his lip, and he looked at her with such longing and heart-break that Pam had to look away lest tears gather in her eyes.

She watched her screen blankly, focusing more on the moving image of Jim hanging on the cliff of her peripheral vision as he took his seat at his desk. He leaned forward in his seat, his elbows propped up on the desk, and his hands held in a fist against his lips... The lips she had kissed _back_.

_Thank God the cameras aren't here today_, Pam thought to herself as she continued to pretend that she wasn't thinking about Jim.

The phone trilled.

------+------

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam," he heard her say. Her voice. It wobbled like an overtly nervous trapeze artist taking hesitant and misleadingly graceful steps across a high-wire. Jim could feel how uncomfortable she felt talking out loud for him to hear. "Oh, hi. ... Umm, now's not the best time to double check everyone's dinner orders. I'll call you when I get home. ... What? ... Who didn't check anything off? ... Oh, they're both vegetarians. ... That's fine for him, but no, she doesn't eat fish. Can't you prepare something special for her? ... Mixed vegetables with rice would be fine, I'm sure. Thanks so much. ... Yes, I'll call you back later today. Alright, bye then."

The caterer. So... she really was going to get married. He knew it. He knew it for years now. Ever since that first day she had come to work at Dunder Mifflin. But even then, even on her first day before she announced that she was in fact engaged to one of the workers in the warehouse, he wanted to ignore the little silver glimmer his eye caught when she moved her left hand beneath the glow of the white fluorescent lights installed in the ceiling. He knew it on the Booze Cruise when she and Roy finally set a date. He knew it all those times at the Dundies when she won the "Longest Engagement" award. He knew it when he scheduled a trip to Australia.

But here it really was. Less than a month until the wedding. And here he was. His love for her out in the open. And here is where it was. A secret kiss in the dark only a few nights ago. And here they were. Jim, rejected. Pam, getting ready for her dream wedding _to Roy_.

He spent the morning on the phone with clients. Jim couldn't allow himself a spare moment to think of _her_. It was finally here, the day when he'd have no choice but to let go. Jim had always clinged onto a faint hope. The hope that if he told her how he really felt, things would be different. That she would love him back, and things between her and Roy would end. The hope that there was a still a chance for them to love one another. But that hope was now withered and dry. Pam didn't love him.

Jim couldn't do this. He hadn't looked at her all day besides a tiny glance when he walked in the door. Cautiously, he got a drink from the water fountain. He gulped it down, the cold water. He sucked in a large breath through his mouth, and shot it out as his shoulders heaved. He had to do this.

Walking back to his desk, he sped past his chair, and arrived at reception. She didn't look at him. She kept her head down, preoccupying herself with papers and whiteout.

"Pam..."

------+------

The sound of him saying her name was immobilizing. It warmed the blood pumping through her heart, and massaged the nerves in the tips of her pink-manicured toes. A lock of her honey hair fell in front of her eyes from keeping her head down. She tucked it behind her ear, and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. Her eyes lingered across his features: his unkempt hair, his mouth, gaping open as it searched for the right words.

"Is this how it's going to be?" he managed at last. She swallowed her indecision. It felt like a rock being forced down her throat.

"Jim, I... I..." He shook his head gently.

"Don't say you can't again. I can't hear you say that again," he said, desperation clinging to the roof of his mouth.

"I care so much about you... but only..." She couldn't finish. She couldn't say this to him. "I don't know how to talk to you anymore."

"I just need to hear you say one thing," he said with sudden resolve. "Tell me that you never loved me. That it was always Roy. I just need to know."

How could she answer when she didn't know the truth herself? For so many years, she had safety. She had the security of Roy, but then Jim came along. A guy that charmed her everyday at work with his sense of humor, his warmth, his understanding. She couldn't even recognize her own feelings anymore.

"It was always Roy." As the words slipped between her lips, she regretted saying it. Jim only took a big breath, smiled at her half-heartedly, and walked away. He strolled out of the office with his hands in his pockets. When he was out of sight, she jumped up, and rushed off to the bathroom. Locking the latch of the gray fiberglass stall, she cried softly, covering her eyes with her left hand, the hand that bore everything that was binding her to stand here in the bathroom and cry. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She wanted to laugh with Jim again, be supported by him, play tricks on Dwight with him. Everything made more sense when she was upset over Roy because then she could turn to Jim for warmth and comfort, and he could make her smile again. What was she supposed to do? What could she do now?

------+------

Jim sat on the bottom of the back steps that led into the parking lot. All that he felt comfortable doing was breathing. His elbows rested against his knees, and his face was buried in his palms. He rubbed his forehead. All that he knew was that he couldn't do this another day. Why did it have to end like this?

He took his cellphone out of his pocket, and dialed a number.

"Uhh, yes, can I talk to Jan Levinson please?"


	4. Not One Word

She was a coward. Pam was a coward. Sitting on the couch in her home, wrapped in a blanket and her favorite hoodie, she was left alone with the thoughts of how weak she truly was. Her hands were coiled around a black mug of green tea. The smooth ceramic was pleasantly warm, but it couldn't distract her from how pathetic she felt.

Two days. Two days in a row now, she had played hooky. She had called in and told Michael she was far too sick with a fever to come into work. All just so she could avoid having to see Jim, as if a two day break from work would automatically make things better. This problem wasn't just going to dissolve, disappear, vanish in two days. When she'd eventually have to return to work, Jim would still be there. Her ambivalent feelings for him would still be there. The unavoidable awkwardness would still be there. But then again, what did awkwardness matter? She had broken her best friend's heart. The single tear that had rolled down his cheek, the way he begged her on Monday not to say "I can't,"how he smiled at her with such sorrow in his eyes when she admitted (lied?) that it had always been Roy– it all shared in breaking her own heart.

Pam was a coward, sitting here at home for two days pretending to be sick just so she could avoid the situation just a tiny bit longer. And yet, none of it ever stopped haunting her thoughts. How could she have expected it to? This wasn't just some friend who confessed to having a crush on her, but then again... it _was_ just that. It felt more complex than that, more worthy of all the tears it had been causing her to shed.

If there was anything Pam knew, it was that sleeping next to Roy, kissing him, and granting him quickly waning smiles was becoming harder. It all felt so unnatural, rehearsed, and processed.

Returning to the office on Thursday was the moment she had been dreading the two days she was faking sick, but she couldn't ignore this any longer. That morning, she sat at her desk, conjuring up a million things in her mind that she could possibly express to Jim to help him understand how she truly felt, that she had never wanted any of this. That he had no idea how much she really did care for him. Was she going to go through this, this incurable apprehension, every morning now before Jim came into work?

Everyone was arriving as usual. Jim was unusually late, but Pam guessed it was because he didn't want to have any extra time around the office. When Michael and Creed both came into the office and Jim still wasn't there, she knew something was wrong. From her seat at reception, she glanced over at his desk. All of his personal effects were gone: the picture frames, the doodles, everything that had subtly made the desk his own. All that was left was the computer, the telephone, all of the default desk accessories.

"Pamela, soon-to-be Mrs. Pamela Anderson, feeling better I see?" Michael's voice interrupted her thoughts. She blinked at him, and continued examining Jim's bare desk.

"Oh, yeah," she answered instinctively. Michael followed her gaze, and realized what she was looking at.

"Shame about Jim, I know. He wouldn't even stay long enough for us to throw him a farewell party." For once, Michael was saying something that Pam was interested in. She looked up at him, confusion and worry bound up in her green irises.

"What about Jim?" her voice creaked.

"He transferred to Stamford. He's their new Sales Manager. You didn't know? Anyway, if you still feel sick, then just go on home. We don't want everyone else to catch something."

As Michael walked away, innumerable different things flooded Pam's mind all at once until a knurl of heart-break and shock was tangled in her asphyxiated windpipe. Jim transferred? Stamford? But then he was ... gone. How could he do this to her? How could he tell her that he was in love with her, and then run away from it all? How could he make her care so much, and just leave without even saying goodbye?

Pam wrung her hands obsessively as her heart pounded against the inside of her rib cage. Her eyes stung with the burn of choked tears. No, no. This couldn't be right. Michael was an idiot, she knew that all too well. Jim hadn't transferred. A convention in Stamford, maybe, that he was selected to go to. He couldn't have transferred. He couldn't have left her here, alone with nothing but the comfort of past memories. How could he be so selfish? How could he...

That's when she spotted it. Atop an old copy of "Tomorrow's Bride" that was laying on her desk was a wide white envelope. It had her name written on it, and it was unmistakably Jim's handwriting. _Oh, God, he's really gone_, she suddenly thought to herself. Did he really care about her so little that he could just get up and leave Scranton in two days without any sort of goodbye or at least a warning to prepare her for the shock? Had he even considered for a second how much this would shatter her recently enfeebled sense of security in the familiar?

She grabbed the envelope in her clenched fist mercilessly, and threw it in the small trash bin beneath her desk. She didn't want to read it. Nothing he could say would make up for how much he had willingly hurt her. Everything would be so much emptier without him...

_Jinxes, watching wedding bands, putting Dwight's stuff in the vending machine, sneaking out to Pathmark to buy stuff for Kevin, messing with a certain alliance, making Dwight believe it was Friday, playing Desert Island and Who Would You Do, laughing together at the Dundies, performing Michael's movie with everyone, the office Olympics_.

Pam hesitantly retrieved the crumbled envelope from the trash bin. She smoothed out the folds with her thumbs, but she still couldn't bring herself to read the letter. She was too hurt that they had gone through all that, but he could still leave, that she had to find out from Michael. After all the inside jokes, some that could fit inside a teapot, others that were simply unforgettable, Jim had left her alone here. They were best friends, but their connection had always been more significant than that. Best friends was too simple of a phrase to describe the laughs, smiles, and unspoken words they shared. And it hurt her so much to think that it had all meant so little to him. So little that he could leave without a word. _Not one word_.

She stuffed the letter inside her coat pocket, resolved to read it when she wasn't so angry at him for abandoning her and their friendship. Resolved to read it when she could forgive him for admitting his love for her and forgive him for the first kiss in ten years she had really felt.


	5. My Dreams

May 26, 2006. Fifteen days. Two weeks and one day. That's all that was left now until Pam's wedding.

Pam looked over at the alarm clock on her night table. 6:16 AM. She hated sleepless nights, and this one had been one of the worst in her life. At least the sun was fully above the horizon now, so she had an excuse to get out of bed. Roy was sound asleep as she pulled the covers off of her, and crawled off the mattress.

Turning on the bright light of the bathroom, the illumination brought her face into focus. Bags forming under her green eyes, curly hair in a total mess, and the kind of frown you only wear after a night of sleep characterized by impracticability and elusiveness. Making her way into the kitchen, she put a kettle of water on the stove, and waited at the kitchen table. Hey eyelids were weary with fatigue, and she rested her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow propped up on the table.

She had spent yet another night tossing and turning, but this was the first time where she hadn't managed to drift into a light sleep for even just two hours. There was too much stirring and brewing in her mind: guest lists, paying for the reception hall, tailoring the brides maids' gowns, all the last minute wedding details. And yet, running beneath the surface of all those things, an undercurrent that she refused to directly think about but an inescapable thought nonetheless... _Jim_. Pam could still hear his words from Casino Night and last Monday echoing in her memories. Not just Casino Night. Everything he had ever said to her. All of the words melded together. It was everything, and she refused to think about it. Pam refused to remember it, and promised to forget it.

Pam thought of doing a sketch of her kitchen. A fleeting image of her kitchen personified by colored pencils pass through her mind, but left as quickly as it had come (to make room for more important thoughts).

She and Roy hadn't made love since before Casino Night. It wasn't that unusual as they never made love that often in the first place, but the mere concept that it hadn't happened since Casino Night bothered her. She had tried to initiate something a few nights earlier, but it was awkward. She had begun kissing his neck lightly as he got into bed, but he only rolled over and said, "I'm too tired, babe." And although she was embarrassed, she couldn't help but feel almost thankful that they didn't have sex.

The kettle whistled angrily at Pam for ignoring it. She turned off the stove, and poured the steaming water into a mug. She grabbed a tea bag and a spoon, and sat down on the couch in the living room. She dipped the bag in the hot water, watching the transparent liquid become permeated with the color of crushed herbs and tea leaves.

So much to do, so much on her mind. She wondered to herself what the honeymoon would be like. They decided on Las Vegas even though she really wanted to go to Europe (or South America, or see the Pacific Ocean...). But Pam could still enjoy herself, couldn't she? No, she wasn't _that_ into gambling, but it was fun on occasion (like Casino Night). Once she got there, she would send her parents a postcard. Mail was somehow more intimate than a phone call, and her mom loved getting letters (Jim left a letter on her desk).

The string of the tea bag slipped from the grip of her fingers, and landed in the water. Jim's letter. She had willed herself into forgetting about it. Leaving her cup on the coffee table, she approached the living room closet with all of her love, her apprehension, her denial. She opened the closet door, and there was her coat. With trembling fingers, she reached in the pocket and retrieved the stiff envelope. It still had creases from when she had crumpled it in feigned anger.

Pam sat down on the couch, and held the letter up level with her breasts. She was too afraid of what it would say the same way she had been afraid to talk to Jim the Monday after Casino Night (the same way she was afraid that night on the Booze Cruise).

She tore the envelope open in a fit of anxiety, and pulled out a small folded note with Jim's scribble-handwriting scratched on it in pen. Without even reading it, it looked concise.

Dear Pam,

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, for hurting you, for confusing you, for being so selfish. But I'm not sorry that I kissed you, and I'm not sorry that I told you how I feel because for just that moment my one and only dream was real. I knew it was going to hurt when my dream was crushed, and it did hurt. There's nothing for me to do about that now. But you know what it feels like to have your dreams suffocated, and because I don't want you to ever suffer having your dreams crushed... don't let _him_ break your spirit. Please, never let _him_ crush your dreams.

Love, Jim

There's was still something in the envelope, and Pam pulled it out.

She didn't recognize it at first, but by the time she did the tears were already rolling down her cheeks. She rubbed them away with the back of her left hand, and the diamond from her ring scrapped her cheek a little. The memories flooded her, and she was lost in everything.

In her hand, Pam held a blue pamphlet. A pamphlet for a graphic design internship in New York.


	6. Everything

"I know, it's horrible... I made a doctor's appointment... Yeah, if I'm not better by Monday, I'll definitely start popping some pills... Roy has a better immune system than I do... Thanks, Michael... Bye," Pam said into the phone receiver, feigning a sick voice. She hung up, and printed the mapquest directions.

Nothing ever felt so unsure. Everything was merging into one compact past, a dubious future, and an unplanned present. Pam didn't know where she was going next, what she would do when she arrived at her destination, and why she was doing this. But she understood that if she didn't take this leap of blindfolded faith, she might never forgive herself. She was going to have to endure taking a chance.

She licked the envelope shut with every clash of feelings she was having at this moment poorly personified into words stuffed inside it, but she couldn't do this without any attempt to explain herself. She left it on the coffee table, propped up against a small vase of delicate daisies. Running out the front door and throwing herself inside her cheap car (why was it that Roy spent so much on his truck, but she only got a shitty, old car?), she left the last thread of safety she had so desperately hung onto. There was nothing for her to cling to anymore. The strings of security (of slavery) were shredded.

Pam was told as a little girl to always take chances. You couldn't go on being afraid of riding a bike, of going to school, of being the new kid forever. Life changes, and she was taught to accept it, embrace the new chances. Because in the end, a risk could take you exactly where you wanted to be (or leave you with your heart broken).

When was it that she let herself be compromised for monotony and refuge, she wondered as she scanned the mapquest directions, driving down the highway, her eyes falling upon the words "Dunder Mifflin, Stamford, CT."

-------+-------

Roy grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter, and shoved them deep into his pants pocket. He scoured his livingroom for his jacket. Hadn't he left it on the couch? Oh, right. Pam had probably hung it up in the closet (when would she stop nagging him about leaving his coat out?). He threw the gray jacket on, and made his way to the door. Apparently, Pam had decided to leave for work on her own today which was unusual. Whatever, it didn't really matter all that much.

As his fleshy fingers wrapped around the gold front doorknob, he spotted a white envelope on the living room coffee table. Pam had left him a letter? Unusual again. Maybe she had decided to start new routines.

He tore the envelope open, and read the letter it contained.

Dear Roy,

I've known you and loved you for so long now. You're such a great guy, and we've shared so much together over the past ten years. You made sacrifices for me like finally setting a date because it's what I wanted. So many women would be lucky to have you as their fiancé. You'll always be my friend, and I'll always love you.

Roy found the wind knocked out of him. The rest of the letter only came in fragments. _We have to stop sacrificing who we are to make each other happy_. Why was this happening? Pam seemed so happy, so excited about the wedding. _I'll send my mom over later to pick up my stuff_. He had done so much for her. He treated her like royalty, hadn't he? _I hope you find a girl who'll go to the Phillies games with you and drink cheap beer with you._ But with the regret for doing whatever it was to make her break up with him came a relief. He was a bachelor again. He could guiltlessly spend nights out at the bar with the guys. _But I'm just not that girl_.

He turned the envelope over, and Pam's engagement ring, worn from three years of use, fell into the palm of his hand.

_Love, Pam_

------+------

Jim stood in the break room, pouring himself another cup of coffee to drown in. He had thrown everything together and moved to an entire other state in two days, and it was certainly taking a physical toll on him. He was still stuck at a motel, waiting for an apartment with decent rent to open up. But what weathered him even more strongly was ruthlessly having to slice the fleshy tendrils of his heart that had so grown attached to _her_ over the last three years. It still stung.

"Miss!" Jim heard the stern, muffled voice of the receptionist scold. It was almost amazing to him how much he could like (love.) one Dunder Mifflin receptionist and so strongly dislike another. "I need to know your name," she said.

He left the break room, coffee cup in hand with his other one shoved deep in his pocket. He made his way over to his desk in the back of the Stamford office, and set the coffee mug down on the cheap wood surface.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Uhh... my name's Pam Beesly," a sweet, familiar voice said at reception.

He was immobilized with surrealism. No, it couldn't be. Jim cautiously turned around, and looked over at the receptionist's desk.

There was Pam, cheeks flushed and out of breath as if she had run here. She brushed a loose lock behind her ear, and crossed her arms. She wasn't dressed in the usual button blouse and pantyhose, only a simple gray hoodie and jeans. She had never looked more beautiful.

-------+-------

Pam fiddled with her car keys, waiting for the grumpy receptionist to call Jim. She was nervous, unsure, her heart raced at an unfathomable speed. The Stamford office seemed pretty different from Scranton. She scanned the room in idleness, mentally screaming at herself in fear. And her eyes fell upon _him_. He was facing her, half crooked over his desk, with the most bewildered, loving eyes watching her breathe.

She knew as she raced across the room to him that _this was right_. Nothing was ever more right, even with the middle-aged woman at reception screaming at her. Everything had led to this: filling out an application for a reception position at a tiny paper company called Dunder Mifflin, sharing lunch with a really funny (and cute) sales rep her first day of work, stealing tiny moments with him between the sameness of everyday, the day the film crew came to document the office, making up diseases, watching Roy angrily push her away from Jim when he had caught them too close when they were only messing with Dwight, being almost hurt by hearing Jim say that he had a date with Katy, getting drunk at the Dundies, Jim's gift to her on Christmas, spending an evening on a rooftop with Jim, Roy finally setting a date, all of the pranks, all of the longing looks, all of the remarks about Michael, and Casino Night. When she jumped up on her toes and kissed him, she knew this wasn't a mistake. This was a chance worth taking. And when he held her face in his hands (his warm hands), there was nothing that ever felt more perfect.

As they parted, they looked into one another's eyes (like after their _first kiss_), searching for the words to express all of what they had ever felt.

"Why did you come back to me?" Jim half-whispered. Pam's lips stretched into a warm smile. _Why did you come back to me_, as if they had ever really belonged to one another (_they did belong to one another_).

"I couldn't forget," she replied, her throat filled with ecstasy and sentimental honey.

"Forget what?"

For the first time in years, Pam's eyes filled with happy tears.

"_Everything_."

* * *

The Season Premiere of The Office... Tonight at 8:30 EST on NBC. 


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